Untitled
by Amakaz
Summary: A woman from an island just off the coast of Ireland is put under a fairy spell and sent out to sea to drown. Is Finvarra behind this or is it someone more sinister?
1. Faery Dart

It was dusk and the young woman was still scouring the fields and hills outside her village for the herbs and plants that would serve to heal the villagers' various aches and pains. She made a mental note of what she'd already gathered: a bunch of yellow flowers would help to ease her neighbour's sleep; the white ones could be used to settle upset stomachs.

With a soft sigh, the woman put down her dagger, brushed the stray wisps of dark hair out of her eyes and stretched. She eyed the quickly darkening sky and debated silently whether or not she should venture into the forest in search of the rarer roots hidden beneath its' floors. Eventually her tiredness won out and she decided to return to her home before the sun set completely.

As she gathered up her things, something stirred in the forest. It was but a small, swift movement and whatever had moved barely made a rustle. None the less, whatever it was, it had caught her attention. She stood peering into the thickness of trees and shrubs, hoping against hope that it was nothing but a rabbit. A distinct feeling of unease settled over her and she, being a sensible young woman, decided to make haste and leave. She swiftly picked up her basket and rose to her feet, intending to put as much distance between herself and the now foreboding trees as possible.

Nevertheless, the disconcerting feeling of being watched did not leave her. The wind blew, making her skin goose-bump and the hair at the back of her neck prickle. She picked up her pace once again, but startled when something moved past her so closely she felt the air move. She gasped and whirled around on her heels, looking about anxiously. Her eyes settled on a small form directly in front of her and her hand flew to her breast to cover her racing heart.

"Mearan!", she breathed, "What are you doing here, out so far and so late alone?" She gently reprimanded the little boy who merely flashed a gap-toothed, dimpled smile.

The young woman sighed. "You nearly scared the life out of me, you know!" She held out her hand, "Come. 'Tis getting dark." Instead of taking the proffered hand Mearan grinned wider and held out an apple that he'd been hiding behind his back.

The woman laughed and took the fruit from his tiny fingers. "Thank you, love. I am a bit hungry.", she said before biting into the apple with a crunch. She took young Mearan by the hand and they began their trek back to their small coastal village.

It wasn't long before the young woman began feeling light-headed. Soon she began to have trouble coordinating her movements. Her limbs felt strangely disconnected. Brushing the feeling aside as weariness and not wanting to alarm the small child walking by her side, she said nothing. But, the feeling only worsened. The world blurred before her eyes, her limbs went numb making her stumble along clumsily. When she felt she could go no further without collapsing, she opened her mouth and took in a slow breath to tell Mearan to go get help. Panic surged through her as she found that she could form no words. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, as though it were made of lead.

The last thing she saw before loosing consciousness entirely was Mearan looking down at her, grinning, his shoulders shaking in muted mirth.

"Get her leg! Her leg!" the Hob cried to his companion whom, in turn, shot him an annoyed loom and grumbled, " I always get the heavy end…"

"Stop your whining! We're almost done here!" the other snapped. If anyone had been around to see, they would have been witness to a strange sight indeed. A woman with long dark hair, floating precariously in mid-air before and old abandoned fishing boat. If the witness had had any prowess for magic, they would have then seen two tiny man-like beings desperately trying to hoist the limp dark-haired woman into the boat.

The two beings were in fact Hobs, creatures of the Faery kingdom or _wee folk,_ as many liked to call them. The two Hobs were both dressed in raggedy clothes and both wore red caps atop their shaggy, white-haired heads. If one were so lucky as to get a closer look at he Hobs, one would note their brown and wrinkled skin as well as their wizened faces.

But, there was not a soul about that night to bear witness to that sight. So, with a final shove from both Hobs, their human cargo was dumped unceremoniously into the boat. The two faery men stood on their tiptoes to peek down into the boat.

"Didn't forget to take her voice, did you?" the first Hob asked the second. His companion shook his head and patted the vial at his hip. The first nodded once brusquely.

"Good. Now, help me push the boat out so we can go home." The two struggled a bit more but soon the boat was sailing swiftly out to sea.

For three days and three nights the boat sailed on, with its' cargo never once waking. Despite its' age and state of disrepair, the little fishing boat stayed afloat, even braving a storm on the third night. Surely either the boat or its' passenger had someone watching over them as they reached the opposite shore, just a ways away from the kingdom of Kells, on the third day both still intact. The boat came to a gentle stop on the beach and still the dark-haired, drenched-to-the-bone woman did not stir out of her unnatural slumber. And so they remained for a time before two young men came traipsing along the wet sand.

One was tall, broad-shouldered and had light brown hair with a curl shorn just above his shoulders. He had clear eyes and a peaceful look on his handsome face as he listened to his friend speak enthusiastically about something.

The other was not quite as tall or broad-shouldered. He had dark hair and equally dark eyes. He was not so much handsome as he was striking in his looks. His features were perpetually merry and his eyes glinted mischievously.

The taller, fairer man excused himself to find a dry patch of ground on which to seat himself. His friend, on the other hand, continued to explore the beach, occasionally picking-up an interesting piece of driftwood or seashell washed ashore from the previous night's storm. Soon the sad looking fishing boat caught his attention. Wondering how the boat came to be marooned on the beach on it's own, he strolled over to it in order to examine it thoroughly. As he neared it, his keen dark eyes glimpsed what appeared to be a mound of cloth within the boat. He quickened his pace and his eyes widened as he took in what lay before him.

"Rohan!" he cried out in alarm. "Rohan, quick!" He brushed the woman's hair out of her face and felt her forehead. It was hot, which both relieved and worried him.

"What have you found Angus?" Rohan asked his friend casually, mistaking his urgency for excitement. He jogged toward the boat but when Angus lifted the woman out of the boat and turned to face him, he gasped "Sweet Lugh! Is she…?" Angus shook his head.

"No, but she's burning hot to the touch. This is very strange Rohan…" He trailed off, already heading back the way they came, towards Kells.

"We'll take her straight to Cathbad. Hurry." Rohan said and the two took off at a slow run towards the castle.

A/N: So? What did you think? This is my first fanfic, so I'd appreciate any reviews or comments you have. I take criticism well so don't be shy if you think it's horrible! Please R&R! Thanks:-)


	2. Waking up and guessing games

Angus pushed the door to Cathbad's workroom open without hesitating. It occurred to him briefly that the druid would not be too pleased with him barging in, but, then again, Angus thought to himself, Cathbad was never overly pleased with him, no matter the situation.

He hissed in a breath when he turned sharply, knocking several bottles over in the process. Manoeuvring around the cluttered room with the woman in his arms proved to be more difficult than he thought. Angus thought it best to put her down quickly. As he lay his burden down onto Cathbad's cot, the druid decided to make his presence known.

"Angus!" he growled. "Have I caught you sneaking about here again? This time, I swear…" The old man stopped his griping mid-sentence when he saw Angus leaning over someone on his bed. Cathbad frowned at the back of Angus's head and strode over to him, his long robes sweeping the floor.

"Angus?" the old man asked questioningly, his gravely voice taking on a gentler tone than he'd used a moment earlier. He came to stand over the bed. Angus looked up at Cathbad and drew in a breath to explain the strange situation to him.

"Cathbad!" Rohan called loudly from the hall, interrupting whatever explanation Angus was about to give him. Rohan soon came dashing into the room, breathing hard.

"What has happened?" Cathbad asked again, turning his grave gaze from his apprentice to Angus. Unfortunately, both started speaking at the same time. Cathbad waved a hand through the air, sharply gesturing for silence.

"Rohan?" he asked in annoyance, his lack of understanding of the present situation only irking him further.

"We found her on the beach…" Rohan began but was cut off by Angus "She's feverish Cathbad! Not to mention soaking wet."

At that, Cathbad bent to examine the woman. He felt her forehead, slipped a hand beneath her chin for a moment and frowned.

"Was she awake when you found her?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off of the woman. Both men shook their heads 'no'. Cathbad straightened and moved swiftly towards the door.

"Rohan, we will go fetch something to break the fever. While we're away, Angus…" the druid trailed off, a look of mistrust momentarily playing over his wizened features. Cathbad shook off the feeling and said "Angus, stay here and watch over her. She may decide to wake while I'm away." With that, both Cathbad and Rohan were out the door.

Angus blinked a few times at the spot where his best friend and the druid had stood. "May?" he said out loud to no one in particular. He regarded the woman for a moment, the realization that he hadn't the slightest clue what to do if she did indeed wake-up dawning on him.

"Cathbad! Wait!" he cried out, scampering for the door. "Cathbad? Rohan?" Angus's shoulders slumped when he saw that the druid and his friend were already long gone. He scratched the back of his head nervously, as he watched the woman warily, afraid that she would awake at any moment.

When the woman did not show any signs of waking any time soon, he sighed and set himself to work making her more comfortable on the cot. He lifted her legs up to tug the woollen blanket out from under her. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to cover her all the way up to her chin, so he folded the blanket at her waist and tucked it in snugly at her sides.

He then moved to the end of the cot, having decided to remove her dripping boots, which were making quite a large puddle on the floor. He flushed slightly when he realized that they went up a bit higher than mid-calf. He shot a quick glance out the door, suddenly afraid that someone would come in and see him in what could be interpreted as a compromising position. When he was satisfied that the hall was empty and that no one would be coming along to see him feeling up a strange woman's legs from underneath her skirts, he tentatively lifted them to just above her knees.

"I'm sorry about this, my lady, but can't have you catching a cold on top of that fever you've already got by leaving you in sopping wet boots, can we?" He said softly, mostly to calm his own nervousness as he unlaced her boots. "Sweet Lugh! Your feet are like ice!" he said, alarmed. He tucked her feet under the blanket hurriedly.

He picked up the boots and made his way towards the hearth. He was relatively silent as he busied himself with stoking a fire, occasionally making a comment directed at the mysterious woman. Having finally coaxed out a small fire from the few bits of kindling and the small log, he set the boots near it to dry.

Angus stood, looking about the room for some other task to occupy himself with, but seeing that he could do no more now than wait for Cathbad and Rohan to return, he pulled up a chair and set it by the cot. He sat down, his eyes intent on the woman. He was struck that, for someone who was supposed to be dangerously burning with fever, she looked surprisingly peaceful in her slumber.

"Now, how does a girl who looks as nice as you do get herself into such a mess?" He said softly, still voicing his thoughts aloud. He reached out to brush some damp locks of dark brown hair back off her forehead. Her skin was slightly tanned, indicating that she spent most of her time outdoors and her cheeks were flushed pink from the fever. Her clothing was plain, Angus noted. That meant that she was not some lost princess from a distant kingdom.

"Thank Dagda" Angus grinned to himself, "I've enough of Deirdre's princess behaviour to put up with." He settled himself back further into the chair, crossing his arms and his legs at the knee. He cocked his head. He found himself becoming more and more curious about this strange woman. So much, that he was actually wishing that she would wake-up.

"I wonder who you are? You must be a very strange girl to go out braving rainstorms in tiny fishing boats." He said, barely audibly. He leaned forward again, examining her features. "A strange girl but a pretty one." Angus decided. He frowned when he noticed that the stray strand of hair had fallen out of place again. He brushed it aside and sat reluctantly back once again.

"Aye, a very pretty strange girl" He said with a yawn. The warmth from the fire and the sound of the woman's steady breathing was slowly lulling him to sleep. Though he fought to stay awake, his eyes soon drooped and he dozed off.

The world was blurry as she opened her eyes. She sat up halfway, her head swam and there was a horrible pounding behind her eyes. She sat like that, unmoving, for a moment waiting for her sight to clear. When it eventually did she looked around, taking in her surroundings. She had no idea where she was.

Panic surged through her. She thought back, trying to figure out how she'd gotten to this strange place. The last thing she remembered was spending an entire day out gathering herbs and then she remembered the strange events with Mearan. After that, she had no memory whatsoever and panic tightened its' grip about her mind. She tried getting up, but her movements were sluggish and clumsy. In her panic she did not notice the sleeping man on a chair beside her.

"Whoa. Easy. You're alright." Angus said gently, the woman's frantic movements having shaken him out of his light sleep. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her and she startled, slapping his hand away. She stared at him, hazel eyes wide with fright, and backed away from him.

"_Shh_…" he soothed. Holding his hands up in front of him. "It's alright. You're safe now." Angus saw that she was breathing hard, obviously in a panic. She was also making strange sounds deep in her throat. Almost as though she were trying to force sound out, but was unable to.

"Now, just rest. You have a fever. Everything's alright." He had to get her to calm down before she fainted or worse. She seemed to be trying to compose herself as she slumped back limply against the wall but she was still staring at him as though he would attack her at any moment.

The woman regarded the stranger speaking to her in a calm, soothing voice. She wanted to ask him who he was and how she came to be here, but, to her horror, she could not utter a word. She tried to rationalize her lack of a voice. She told herself that if, like the man had said, she had a fever then perhaps she had a cold and had simply lost her voice temporarily. She coughed a little, trying to clear her throat, hoping to croak out even a small sound. Anything to reassure her that she still had a voice and it was not as her instincts were telling her; that her voice had simply disappeared.

"What 's your name?" Angus asked gently. When she did not answer he tried again. "My name is Angus. Angus of Kells. That 's where you are now. Do you know where Kells is? Where is your home?" He asked small questions, hoping to get a response from her, to get her to trust him and to see that he wasn't a threat to her. She regarded him for a moment, the fright and panic had dissipated but a slight mistrust still lingered in her eyes.

Angus smiled and held out his hand tentatively. "Let's try again, shall we?" he said lightly. "I'm Angus. Pleased to meet you." He dropped his hand when such a sad look crossed her features and she bared her neck, tapping her palm against her throat and shaking her head slowly.

"Ah." Angus said lamely and the woman lowered her head. He brightened his tone for her sake. "No matter. Are you thirsty?" He asked, getting up to get the pitcher of water on an old desk in the corner of the room. He poured a cup and brought it back to her. She took it, nodding her thanks. Angus sat back down on the chair, watching her drink. She set the cup down in her lap and smiled at him shyly. Angus returned her smile with a grin.

"Cathbad, he's our druid, he'll be returning soon with something to help break that fever of yours'." Angus said, keeping up the small talk to soothe her and further gain her trust. But, Angus soon found himself becoming a little shy around her and it was hard keeping up a one-sided conversation.

After a particularly long silence, Angus feigned a cough to clear his throat. "So, while we wait, why don't we play a little game?" The woman quirked a dark eyebrow at him. "I'll try to guess your name and if I guess right, then…" Angus trailed off mid-sentence, realizing that he hadn't really thought this through. "Well, I don't really win anything, nor do you. So we really couldn't call this a game, but it will pass the time." He finished lamely. He looked up to see that the woman was smiling shyly once again and that her shoulders were shaking slightly with silent laughter.

Angus grinned back. "Alright. Is it Arline? No? Hmm, how about Grania?"

A/N: Thanks for the review Sparrow! Hope you keep reading! Keep the reviews coming!


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